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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585080">To Hell with Artists</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaBrown/pseuds/MiaBrown'>MiaBrown</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drinking, Drinking &amp; Talking, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Humor, Trick or Treating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:42:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaBrown/pseuds/MiaBrown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pouring her heart out about her past failed relationships at a Halloween party isn’t the wisest decision Marinette has ever made. But what is there to do, when that teal-eyed stranger listens to her so attentively? He surely gets why dating artists is just the worst idea ever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Miraculous Writer's Guild September Event 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Hell with Artists</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My work for the September event of the Miraculous Writer's Guild.<br/>Prompt: “You can learn about my tragic backstory later, right now we need to move.”</p><p>Thank you so much to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmReynolds/pseuds/MalcolmReynolds">MalcolmReynolds</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/epcot97/pseuds/epcot97">epcot97</a> for beta reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marinette was of the unshakable opinion that, at the age of 20, she was too old to celebrate Halloween. It was still alright last year, but stepping in one’s second decade of life, a girl simply just couldn’t act like a kid anymore. Even if according to Alya, this opportunity shouldn’t have gone to waste, as it was a sheer miracle that this particular suburb of Paris even celebrated Halloween.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If her friend asked, Marinette’s sudden change of heart had absolutely nothing to do with her recent disastrous breakup, or the fact that the only thing parties were good for was meeting new people </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> a thing she definitely didn’t plan on for the foreseeable future. Even if that wasn’t exactly the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, being who she was, Alya didn’t accept a negative answer to her party invitation. That is how Marinette, against her better judgement, found herself standing on the front porch of the house that Alya rented, attending her Halloween party. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning over the railing of the terrace she took a sip from her paper cup, sweeping away a strand of hair from her face. The neat bun she arranged her hair into didn’t hold it very well, but there was nothing to be done, it was the hairstyle that matched her costume the best. And in the end, Marinette was a fashion student. She couldn’t allow herself to run around town in a prize-winning ladybug costume (that consisted of a hand sewn, knee-length dress and delicate satin gloves with a mask to match it) and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pigtails</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Marinette was technically at the party </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> even if she stood outside of the house while the celebration took place on the inside </span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span> and that was all Alya had asked for. On top of that, her friend couldn’t possibly ask her to have a good time, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sipping her drink, Marinette growled when her phone buzzed in the pocket of her dress (again) but didn’t even bother to look down at the message she received, only wrinkled her nose in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, I’m never dating an artist again,” she grumbled  into the air, to no one in particular, as she was alone on the porch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, that’s what she thought, until she heard a soft voice ask with interest, “And why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette looked up, only to see a boy leaning nonchalantly against the frame of the main entrance. He was wearing a turquoise costume with a hood of the same colour on his head, that shadowed his features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Marinette asked back, unsure whether she heard him right. After all, she had to make sure the stranger was talking to her before she started to bore him with her catastrophic love life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you dating an artist ever again?” the boy asked, pushing himself away from the door and coming closer to lean on the railing next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They all come with a tragic backstory,” she shrugged, taking another sip from her drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s face, which upon closer inspection could have even been called rather handsome, seemed familiar for a reason Marinette couldn’t quite place, but stayed unreadable as he asked, “oh really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I have dated...” Marinette nodded and stopped to mentally count her failed relationships, before displaying the number in the form of held up fingers. “Three of them. The only thing they wanted from a relationship was for it to magically solve all their problems. That isn’t how relationships work!” she fumed, shaking her head in indignation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, how do they work?” the boy asked mildly. The corner of his mouth slightly tucked up, as if he was trying to hide a smile. Marinette had to admit, as he looked at her with his warm teal eyes attentively, she felt herself lose in them for a minute before shaking her head to come out of her daze.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know, but not like that,” she stated categorically. And she could have just left it at that, making the impression of a not too interesting, but at least a normal person. But of course, her life was never that easy, she made sure of it. Whether it was the alcohol she had earlier, or the calming humming of the boy that ensured her he was listening, Marinette didn’t know, but she went on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was this model... and a painter... and they were both great guys but… relationships aren’t supposed to be a rebound after a poor family life,” she shrugged. “Like, you’re supposed to solve the problems of your own life yourself, not expect a miraculous answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything from someone you started dating only a few weeks ago,” she said, staring out to the garden unblinkingly, lost in memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re right. That is not what a relationship is supposed to be about,” the boy agreed before asking considerately. “But does this justify such a categorical rejection of people doing any shape of art?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Marinette could answer, her phone buzzed with the annoying sound of an incoming message. She laughed bitterly, tearing her gaze apart from the streetlights to look at the boy next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s a solid hint to it, yes. But I gave it a chance even after this. As it turns out, it was a mistake,” she declared, making a face. “I was like, ‘oh, why not date this sculptor, what can go wrong?’” She said the question in an intentionally deep voice, mimicking the actual situation. “Well, a lot, apparently. He isn’t particularly good with boundaries or what breaking up with you means on a practical level.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, I see. So, no artists?” the boy smirked at her understandingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. They are the worst, full of tragic backstories!” Marinette said enthusiastically, smiling contentedly that they were on the same page about the issue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stayed silent for a minute as revelation about the absurdness of the situation creeped up on her, before swinging down the rest of her drink and continuing. “Sorry, that I’m venting on the spot when I don’t even know you but-” her phone buzzed again and she fished it out of her pocket with a piercing stare. “He’s driving me crazy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s fine, I was the one who asked,” the boy chuckled and held out his hand. “May I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette looked at him in confusion but handed him the device automatically. She couldn’t help it, her instinct told her that he was trustworthy. That he was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The internet has a really good quality, which is that it can be turned off. You should try it sometime,” the boy smiled and handed the phone back to her after switching off the data. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right. I should,” she admitted, marveling at the ground-breaking idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They leaned back onto the railing and listened to the muffled sounds of the party, the only sound to be heard in the night. There was no buzzing. Marinette’s heart swelled with relief to the realization. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t even notice how occupied her mind was with anxiety about Theo’s incoming messages, until they were gone and she could finally breathe normally again. At the same time, her ability to hold a hopefully normal, not devastatingly self-indulgent conversation also seemed to return, so she turned to the boy smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the way, I’m Marinette,” she said, offering her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luka. Nice to meet you!” Luka, whose name sounded awfully familiar, accepted her hand with a smirk and shook it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Luka. Are you a psychology major or something? Because you’re really good at this listening and advice giving thing,” she grinned at him gratefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, nothing like that,” he laughed and sparks ignited in his mischievous eyes. “Actually, I’m a musician.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t even trying to stifle his sincere laugh as Marinette flushed scarlett to the tip of her ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, um, when I said that artists are the worst, I didn’t mean it like-” she tried but Luka just grabbed her by her hand and gently pulled her forward, in the direction of the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Marinette. You can learn about my tragic backstory later, right now we need to move,” he laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They headed to the street where two girls stood on the pavement in a tiger and a pig costume and waved at them enthusiastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Marinette, it’s so good to see you! Have you run into Luka?” one of the girls asked when they came to a halt before them. It was her classmate back from lycée, Juleka Couffaine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juleka! Rose! It’s been ages!” Marinette enthused upon seeing them and wrapped her one-time friends a hug. “You know Luka?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say that,” Rose giggled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s... kind of my brother?” Juleka asked back, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” ran out on Marinette’s mouth, who all of a sudden was reminded how Luka was familiar to  her. Thanks to Juleka, they’d briefly met several years ago. However, it was so long ago and they’d both changed so much, Marinette wasn’t even sure how the boy recognized her. But judging by the apologetic look he sent her way, he clearly did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have told me that we know each other,” she said, letting go of his hand and prepping hers on her hips in fake indignation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, do we really know each other?” Luka asked, looking into her eyes meaningfully but with a spark of playfulness in his stare. “All I knew about you was though Juleka’s eyes, and even that wasn’t much,” he shrugged. “It looked like a great opportunity to make up for this mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marinette blushed under the gaze that she had no better way than describing as ‘soft’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, are you ready? Can we go?” Rose asked and Luka nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls started down the pavement. They picked up a huge, brown cardboard piece that was propped against the fence by this time, and carried it forward with themselves. Marinette couldn’t quite tell what it was, but she had far more urgent questions as Luka carefully took hold of her hand again, and led her after the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Marinette asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to love it! There is nothing tragic about it,” he winked at her, making the embarrassed blush renew on Marinette’s cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little group turned down at the first house that had a jack-o’-lantern standing in the front yard and marched up to the house. Luka let go of her hand as he ran up the stairs in Juleka and Rose’s footsteps. The girls elevated the big cardboard they were carrying by this time, so it was standing between them and the house’s front door. It was... another door?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose pressed the bell on the house and they waited in silence. Marinette had no idea what was even happening. However, after a few seconds the sound of an opening door could be heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s that?” a kid’s voice came from the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, painfully slowly, two insecure knocks sounded on the cardboard door. Luka opened the temporary door wide open and greeted the little boy standing confusedly on his own terrace in his pajamas with a bowl of sweets in hand with a shining smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, look at that cute costume you have there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love the details! You look just like the real thing!” Rose gushed with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me give you a handful of candies!” Juleka smiled down at the boy and took out quite a few treats from the pouch she was carrying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon seeing the candies the little boy’s confused expression swiftly turned into excitement and he accepted the offer Julaka piled on his own bowl of sweets with gleaming eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, odd strangers!” he beamed before closing the paper door carefully and retreating to the house, shutting its door too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three friends burst out in laughter as they came down from the porch to reunite with Marinette who witnessed the scene from the grass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was really awesome of you guys!” she said in awe, totally energized by the indeed odd but delightful interpretation of trick or treating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Mari,” Rose smiled at her before continuing. “You can do the next house if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to!” she said eagerly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juleka and Rose took the door and marched in the direction of the next house. Luka started to follow them, but Marinette took ahold of his hand, stopping him in his steps and claiming his attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I deliberately didn’t intend to have a good time tonight but you just sabotaged my plan,” she said cheekily before adding with a sincere smile. “Thank you for that!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome Marinette,” he smiled back at her in a way that melted her heart. “You really deserved a fun night after dealing with all those awful artists,” he chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, about that,” she blushed again in embarrassment. “You kind of made me change my mind. I’ll try to avoid general assumptions in the future!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear that!” Luka laughed before going on tentatively. “In that case, could I interest you in a coffee tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love that!” Marinette grinned back at him, her voice laced with delight. “You could tell me all about your tragic backstory,” she continued, bumping his shoulder with hers, effectively owning up her own misfortunate statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can certainly try but I’m afraid it won’t live up to your expectations. There is nothing tragic about it,” Luka shrugged, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry! I can definitely live with that,” she smiled, lacing her fingers together with his as they followed the girls to the next house to give away even more candies. </span>
</p>
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